undo what has been done
by bluestreetlights
Summary: an undertaking, to say the least. series: all day all over the city (every person wanders a different city); part 1.


Ryme City is resilient, Roger thinks. It's so much stronger than he gave it credit for but then, he hasn't been giving much credit to anything lately. Now that he's aware of how much he _hasn't_ been doing, how far he's let himself go without bothering to look back to see the kind of marks he's been leaving behind, well. It's a lot.

There's always another thing to fix, another wrong to set right, and the scope of it all is dizzying. Or maybe that's the blood loss.

He's moving back and forth between the cleanup crews and the news vans, fielding questions left and right. Everyone wants to talk to him; everyone wants an explanation and sometimes a job to do, a way to help.

He coordinates with the precinct police and the mayor's people, politely tells each microphone shoved into his face that the story will break soon and the reporter in charge has all the information. He owes Stevens an apology he thinks and then adds her to the running list of people he needs to apologize to. It's a long list.

The first couple hundred people are his father. Most of the list is his father. He should've done something, said something and then maybe things wouldn't have gotten this far or gotten this bad. At least he's doing better now, maybe. Roger smiles sharply at yet another reporter, gives them a tight nod. His head is pounding and he feels untethered, like he's going to float right out of his body. That's probably bad.

It gets worse.

The world tilts sideways and the ground comes up to greet him but doesn't quite get there. Instead he's hovering just above the pavement, held in place by absolutely nothing. Roger thinks somewhere in the back of his mind that he was absolutely right about the blood loss.

And then he doesn't think much of anything at all.

* * *

The vision that greets him when he comes to is enough to set his heart pounding in his chest. He groans and tries to sit up.

Mewtwo doesn't let him. Tim Goodman's head appears over Mewtwo's shoulder and he sends him a narrow-eyed look.

"Hey," says Tim. "You're going to need to stay down for a moment."

"I'm dying, aren't I?" says Roger blandly, his tone not even the slightest bit mournful. "I've lost too much blood and now I'm hallucinating in my last moments."

Tim looks alarmed. Tim's father appears carrying a shock blanket and a loaded tray of food, skirting around Ditto who trails awkwardly behind him. Roger considers dictating a will just in case.

"**You are not dying**," says a voice in his head that's not his.

Roger begins dictating his will.

"**I have healed you already**," says the voice. Its words come in as a slow rasp, carried by a low voice. The exasperation clinging to the words comes across clear as day. Roger squints up at Mewtwo who has not moved an inch since his awakening. It can't be anyone else in his head.

"Thank you?"

"**You are welcome**. **Do not undo my work**."

"I won't," he says and stops trying to sit up on his own. He helps Tim prop him up and sucks in a sharp breath as pain flares to life. Mewtwo's eyes glow with inner light and the hurt slowly ebbs away.

Harry comes over to wrap him the blanket around him and sets the tray on the ground. They're a strange rag-tag group, him and the detective and the detective's son and the detective's pikachu, the most powerful living psychic in known history whose body his father hijacked, and his father's pokemon who'd been trying very hard to kill him in this room just moments ago. The tray has sandwiches and fruit. Roger focuses very hard on that in an attempt to keep it together.

"So, Mr. Clifford —"

"Just Roger, please."

"Roger," says Harry. "What are you planning to do?"

He waves a hand to encompass the room and Roger's eyes drift from the shattered glass where the windows once were to wrecked remains of the office, passing over all the destruction and finally landing on the aftermath. The hunched over and trembling form of his father's Ditto slowly inching its way towards him. The Flareon with burning eyes that watches them warily from the corner of the room. The city beyond, just now putting itself together.

"I'm going to fix it," he says. "I'm going to fix all of it."

He leans back against the wall and shifts his arm up just high enough for Ditto to settle against his side. The Flareon watches silently, so he looks away and pretends he can't hear it start coming towards him, afraid but wanting to be near. Despite the pain his head feels clearer than it has in weeks, months. There's probably a reason for that and he doesn't want to think about it. He doesn't want to know what else his father did to him for getting in his way. Instead, Roger clears his throat and nods at the detective.

"Anything in particular you want to bring to my attention?"

It's Mewtwo that gives him the answer.

"**Yes**," they say. "**The pokemon that have been experimented on —**"

"—we need to know they'll be alright," finishes Harry. "They're vulnerable and you've already got a lot on your plate. You might not be in a position to take care of them right now."

"I might not," says Roger easily. "But I'm not going back on my word. I might not be able to see to them personally, but I'll be overseeing their care and rehabilitation."

Tension that had previously been building in the room drops off completely.

"**I will help**," says Mewtwo. "**I have experience with…recovery**."

More than one person covers up a wince. Mewtwo's history was well-known to some of them, and to the others what they'd just seen them go through was awful experience enough, even secondhand. So Roger injects as much gratitude in his words as he possibly can and his 'thank you' comes out deeply sincere. Mewtwo accepts it with a quiet nod and takes their leave.

"**I will go to them now**," they say. "**We will be expecting you soon**."

"See you then," says Roger.

"Take care," adds Harry.

The room is silent after their departure and Roger sighs before pushing himself up to his feet.

"Thank you too," he says. "For everything."

He receives two careful nods and a cheerful _pika pika_ from the detective's partner pikachu that makes him smile despite himself.

There's so much to do and he might as well get started.

* * *

Ryme City rebuilds itself slowly but surely and the plans for the Recovery Centre begin to take shape. To Roger's surprise, Detective Goodman stays on to help him. Apparently, dying makes it really hard to get back to work. The Centre employees and scientists take to him immediately and his collaboration with the security team is what sets the facility's safety up to new heights. The Recovery Centre grows in size and scope, becoming first and foremost a safe haven for pokemon.

Roger partners with architects to perfect the Centre's accommodations and make it harmonious, a space for pokemon recovery but also one where people can help. He works with scientists and behavioral experts, trainers who can help with the pokemon who need to battle, rangers for the pokemon who want to return to the wild, adoption agencies for the pokemon who want to live with people, and the pokemon themselves.

Mewtwo is especially invaluable, with their ability to communicate with both pokemon and people. It's clear that the scientists unnerve them but it is equally clear that they won't allow it to stop them from making sure the other pokemon remain safe and happy. They visit the Centre two times a week and spend the rest of their time with the wild pokemon on the mountain, dropping in to see Detective Goodman and his pikachu more often than not.

Roger is constantly surrounded by people now, including Stevens who listened to his apology silently and then suddenly pronounced herself part of the team. According to her, the pokemon in the facility were a story, her story, and she was going to protect with her own hands.

Roger remembers what happened to the last fool who attempted to come after his father's pokemon, a reporter who'd cornered Ditto and tried to pry something to use out of him. There wasn't much left of him after Stevens took him down, the fury of an investigative reporter with a burning grudge magnified by a thousand. He greenlights her involvement on the spot. Her smile is beatific and sharply edged.

Soon after, Tim Goodman arrives with his hands full of training material for the police academy, an encyclopedic knowledge of pokemon and a determination to keep things even keeled. His attempts at keeping the peace and being the only reigning voice of common sense would work better if Stevens didn't bulldoze straight through his objections.

Roger stays clear of the ensuing chaos and only interjects to drawl out that Stevens keeping him on his toes was clearly effective training for an aspiring detective. Tim sends him a look of deep, deep betrayal.

Life is good and things are getting better.

Then one afternoon, Flareon pads its way across the office to his desk and jumps up, delicately avoiding the paperwork to stand in front of him and blink slowly, easy and relaxed. Roger feels something rise in his chest, an unnamed emotion, soft and familiar. Flareon eases its way under his arms to curl up in his lap and the words stick in his throat. In the end all he can do is run his fingers through its warm fur and hold on tight.

Something deep in his heart unclicks and goes loose.

He gets back to work.

* * *

a note: rewatched detective pikachu recently and picked up this series again so. here's the first part. **next up:** tim & harry and becoming a family again.


End file.
